Three Worlds, One Big Fellowship
by Hereward the White
Summary: Three-Way Crossover between Lord of the Rings, Discworld and Harry Potter. An unknown phenomena sends Harry, Ron, Hermione and Dumbledore into Middle-Earth while a magical accident sends Vimes, Carrot, Angua and Cheery there too. R&R please.
1. Sudden Surprise at Hogwarts

_Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to the settings and characters in this story. All Lord of the Rings' characters and settings belong to JRR Tolkien and Peter Jackson, all Harry Potter characters and settings belong to JK Rowling and (whoever produced the Harry Potter films) and all Discworld characters and settings belong to Terry Pratchett. These characters and locations are used purely for mutual entertainment and I shall receive no monetary profit from this work._

_I will be using the film version of Harry Potter._

Harry Potter, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger had been summoned to the headmaster's office at Hogwarts. None of them had any worries for Albus Dumbledore was the wisest and most courteous wizard they ever knew; indeed he was Harry's father figure ever since his first year and an excellent mentor to all of them. What was curious, though, was that their fourth year had barely started when he sent for them.

When the enchanted staircase finished its ascent it was Harry who went up front to knock at the door; Dumbledore's response was swift in coming as the door opened without anyone making physical contact.

"So good of you all to come." Dumbledore greeted them. "There is a grave matter that we must discuss." He indicated the chairs in front of his desk, wordlessly inviting them to sit down. Once they were seated and the door had closed he continued. "There is only one way left for Voldemort to return that I can see; there is a black rite that can resurrect the dead but, in order for it to work, he will need Harry's blood." All three of them seemed to go pale. "So, we must determine the best way to prevent his servants from getting their hands on you, Harry."

"It will be difficult, headmaster," Hermione remarked, "Even at Hogwarts there are inevitable situations where Harry can end up alone and, when summer comes... I can see no reason to elaborate."

"I don't easily agree with Hermione, sir," Ron commented, "But in this case I must say that she's right. As long as he lives with the Dursleys he'll be vulnerable to capture."

"Voldemort is many things." Harry identified. "He's a murderer, a bigot, arrogant, just to name a few, but he's also headstrong. He'll stop at nothing to achieve his ends."

"I fear that is so, Harry." Dumbledore confirmed.

They sat and thought hard for a long while, trying to find the best solution to prevent Voldemort's return. Suddenly Hermione started, looking all about the room. Dumbledore opened his eyes.

"I feel it, too." He mentioned to her, catching the attention of Harry and Ron.

"What is it, headmaster?" Harry asked, knowing it couldn't be Voldemort or his scar would burn.

"We must exit fast!" Dumbledore declared, opening the door and attempting to temporarily remove the anti-apparition charm. The three Gryffindor students leapt out of their seats and began to hasten towards the stair. However, just as they were reaching the threshold, a bright turquoise light filled the room for a few seconds and, when it faded out, Dumbledore and the three students were gone.


	2. Wizards and the Watch

Commander Vimes was livid; in his case this might be thought of as normal when in his office, so perhaps 'more livid that usual' would be a better description. He re-read the letter from Lord Vetinari, detailing what he was to do, took a glance out of the window at the shimmering bulk of the Unseen University and then went to talk to the assembled watchmen.

"Atten-SHUN!" Colon barked as Vimes entered the room. A motley crew was lined up before him, nothing new in the multi-ethnic Watch, but he had to know who he had at his immediate disposal.

"All present and correct, captain?" He asked Carrot, who stood beside Colon with his hat under his arm, as usual whenever he and Vimes met.

"Sorry, sir," He answered, "But we only have Sgt. Colon, Sgt. Detritus, Sgt. Angua, Cpl. Nobbs, Cpl. Littlebottom, Constable Shoe, Constable Dorfl..."

"All right!" Vimes interrupted, remembering Carrot's literal-mindedness. He turned to the rank-and-file. "I've received a letter from his lordship detailing us to investigate some peculiar fluctuations around the University. I can't understand why, seeing as peculiar fluctuations should be business-as-usual for the wizards, but orders are orders. Understandably no-one here would be happy about investigating into the affairs of wizards so I shall ask for anyone who has the gusto to volunteer." Several feet moved backwards, Constable Shoe gripping his hips so the rest of him wouldn't be left behind.

"Why don't the wizards deal with it themselves?" Colon remarked. "If they made the bed, they should lie in it." _Most of the time they do._ He added in the privacy of his own head.

"Like I said, sergeant," Vimes answered, "Orders are orders."

"I will volunteer, sir." Carrot announced, replacing his helmet. _That's right._ Vimes thought. _He would._

"I shall volunteer to aid in this investigation, sir!" Angua said as she stepped forward. Vimes gave her a nod; it figured that she would volunteer just after Carrot. He refrained from saying 'Good girl'.

"Is that everyone?" He substituted.

"No sir." Came a voice as one of the dwarfs stepped forward. "I'm coming, too."

"Okay, corporal. We shall proceed up to the University forthwith." He guided the volunteers into a group and commenced to give his final instructions to the rest of them. "Colon, Detritus, you'll be in charge while we're gone, and I don't want a repeat of last time, sergeant. Just normal policing duties. Oh, and Fred," He added when he noticed no sign of Nobby, "Check the petty cash, would you." With that he led the volunteers out of the Yard.

Upon reaching the University gates they found Archancellor Ridcully waiting for them.

"Ah, your grace." He greeted as the coppers halted. "Lord Vetinari sent a message to expect you. We don't usually allow citizens to get involved in these affairs." Vimes got the message.

"I don't like being here anymore than you do," He answered, "But his lordship insisted. Let's get it over with." With mutual unease Ridcully led them into the grounds.

"Phwoar!" Angua remarked, almost falling backwards. Carrot gave her a glance and, reading her expression, refrained from asking until she was ready.

"What will you tell us?" Vimes asked as they approached the High Energy Magic building.

"Well," Ridcully considered this for a moment, "Some of the apprentices thought it would improve their understanding of the cosmos if they combined their magical refining experiments with the natural energy around the library and, well, I don't really fancy meeting anything without proper defences."

"Like swords, you mean." Vimes guessed. At the entrance to the HEM Ridcully asked them to wait while he entered to 'discuss' matters with the apprentices.

"Sir," Angua murmured, "I've sniffed round this part of the city before and this place usually stinks of magic but not like this, it positively reeks."

"Hmm," Vimes acknowledged this, "I don't know why his lordship doesn't just let these wizards sort it out as usual." Ridcully now returned and invited them to step this way. But just as he closed the door behind them he turned to see a major octarine discharge strike the four watchmen, who promptly vanished.

"STIBBONS!" He roared, resulting in the head of magical research to come dashing forth. "What has just happened?"

"Well, sir," Ponder squirmed, "We calculated that the only way to prevent a rift in the fabric of reality was to invoke an interdimensional discharge; and since there was a chance it would lead into the world of elves..." Ridcully followed his gaze. There was a large iron bar propped up against the wall.

"You decided that directing it at something iron would be safest." He finished the sentence for him. "You were aware of the watchmen coming in."

"Yes sir. So I thought we'd best do it before they came in."

"You were too late!" Ridcully remarked.

"Even so," Ponder responded, "It was directed towards the nearest... spare... iron. OH GODS!"


	3. When Harry met Strider

_I am likely to switch between using the Peter Jackson trilogy and the book(s) when using the Lord of the Rings material, depending on what seems to work better._

"Who are you?" Came a gruff but mild voice. Harry Potter felt like he was lying under a bush, his eyes stinging from the light. He struggled to adjust to the brightness as he attempted to identify the speaker. When he was ready he saw a man standing over him, wearing earthy garb and brandishing a sword, his hair and beard waving in the wind. Harry realised that he wasn't actually under a bush but he was next to one and the ground was certainly rough. While the bush was to the left of his head Harry recognised Ron Weasley lying off to his right.

"I ask again." The stranger announced. "Who are you?"

"My name is Harry Potter." He answered. "But who are you?"

"I am known by many names," The man replied, "But the people in these parts call me Strider." Harry was somewhat puzzled by this response but it was good to know a name to refer to this man by. The location was unfamiliar to Harry but there were parts of the world he hadn't seen before.

"Where are we?" He asked.

"This is Bree-land," Strider answered, "And I might ask what are two boys like you doing out in the wilderness."

"Wha?" Ron suddenly blurted out as he sat up on his elbows while Harry steadily got to his feet.

"Calm down, Ron." Harry stated. "I don't really know what happened but I've never heard of anywhere called Bree-land. One minute we were in the headmaster's office at Hogwarts and then there was a flash and now we're here."

"I have wandered far and wide throughout Middle-Earth," Strider returned, "But Hogwarts is unknown to me." He pointed his sword at them, whereupon Ron drew his wand. "Tell me, do you serve Sauron?"

"Who?" Ron queried. Strider could tell from their eyes that the name was as obscure to them as Bree-land, meaning that they could not be in league with the forces of evil. He lowered his sword.

"Are you Gondorian?" He asked.

"No," Harry answered, "We're English." A cocking of the eyebrow told Strider that Gondor was unknown to them and it told Harry that 'English' was a demonym unknown to Strider. "Do you believe in worlds beyond the one that you know well?" Strider mused over this.

"It depends as to what level you speak of. I believe in the world beyond life and I believe in the lands of the Valar..."

"I mean," Harry elaborated, "Do you believe in the existence of other realities?" Strider raised an eyebrow again.

"As in worlds that are of the living separate from this one?" He checked, Harry nodded. "Such ideas are few and far between but, by the looks of it, you two are proof of such worlds." Harry nodded again. "You stand in lands broken by war and further wars loom in the East. I would advise you to remain with me for your safety."

"I don't know, Harry." Ron muttered. "How do we know he's not working for You-Know-Who?"

"Well," Harry answered, "For one he didn't confront us with a wand; he may be a squib but he's no wizard. And two, he'd have grabbed me while I was unconscious rather than confront at all." Strider seemed to react to the word 'wizard'.

"You are familiar with the istari?" He asked.

"I'm not familiar with that order." Harry replied. "Ron and I are students of the Hogwarts school for witchcraft and wizardry." Strider tightened his grip on the sword.

"How can one place tutor both good and evil?" He almost growled in his suspicion.

"Do not let prejudice cloud your understanding." Harry returned. "Witches are nothing more than the female equivalent of wizards." Strider still had a suspicious look in his eyes but he sheathed his sword.

"Come, young'uns. The Sun begins to sink and there's a dread folk of the darkness abroad in these lands. We must make for Bree. I have dealings there tonight." With that he physically urged them forward, not wanting to take his eyes off them. Harry never even touched his wand and Ron soon learned to put his away.

The whole landscape seemed wild and overgrown. Harry could not see a sign of any habitation.

"Is it far?" He asked.

"No, it is only another two and a half miles." Strider gave him an encouraging nudge in the shoulder.

Most of the journey was uneventful. Ron kept his mouth shut and Harry kept looking around for any signs of human activity. As the Sun sat low and orange in the sky, its light reflecting off the gathering clouds, they came over a hill and saw a worn stone road leading to a medieval-looking town, from which three other issued forming a cross.

"There is the North-South Road." Strider pointed out. "And Bree is only another thousand strides if we keep straight ahead."

"If that's a road," Ron couldn't help but remark, "What would a track be like?"

"If my instincts serve well," Strider answered, "You will find out within the week."

By the time they reached the gate of Bree the Sun was down and the sky was packed with cloud. Strider looked at the sky and said.

"Looks as though rain shall be on its way." Then he knocked on the gate. A hatch open and a light shone through it.

"Oh, Strider." Grumbled the man on the other side. "What brings yer t'Bree?"

"I found two boys out in the hills." He answered. "Also I expect to have dealings with Butterbur." The gate was opened.

"If you must." The gatekeeper groaned. Strider guided Harry and Ron in and the gate was shut. Harry was confused by the look of the town and Ron felt uncomfortable; it made them think of a darker, dingier version of Diagon Alley. Strider led them to The Prancing Pony; the alphabet was unknown to them but the icon on the shingle was sufficient to give them its name.

"What coinage do you possess?" Strider checked as they paused outside the inn. Harry and Ron showed him a knut, a sickle and a galleon. "The metal value may permit you use them but they are no coins I've seen before. For the time being I shall have to be with you in case anyone gets upset about their use. Oh, and Harry," He had spotted the glimmer of more gold in his pockets, "Watch your back." They entered the pub to the sound of gossip, drunken joviality and Barliman in the middle of an argument with two persons in armour. Strider grunted disapprovingly. He had much to do without these newcomers.


	4. Bother with Barliman

Commander Vimes picked himself up and dusted the dirt off his breastplate. Happy that its shine was removed after its encounter with the ground he looked round to see Angua lifting herself up by her arms and legs.

"You're still human, sergeant." He commented. She looked round.

"Ah, sir." She acknowledged his presence and stood up straight. "I was just a bit shaken."

"I'm not best pleased." He mentioned. "Those wizards tugged at the threads of reality too much and we just had to be there to fall through the holes. Where's Capt. Carrot?" Angua breathed deep and sniffed a few times.

"Can't get a whiff of him, sir." She said apologetically. "Which is bizarre because even if we were unconscious for a whole day I'd still smell him somewhere in the mix."

"Well," Vimes mused, "There's no reason why we'd all end up in the same place, not after that mess." He looked round and stopped suddenly. "Sergeant..." She came up behind him and looked at what he saw.

"Well," She remarked, "If we must be in an unknown land at least we can start with something that's familiar."

"You noticed it, too." He identified. The town set before them had the run-down, muddy depraved look that reminded them of Ankh-Morpork. "Well, I think we can check it out."

"If the worst comes to the worst," Angua added, "I'm experienced in fleeing from an angry mob."

"And I'm very experienced in mobs, angry or otherwise." Vimes returned as they proceeded as best they could down the hill towards the town.

They entered without much trouble, the traffic in the town was substantial, once again reminding them of Ankh-Morpork, and allowed them to go unnoticed for now. There were no distinguishing buildings to be seen, clearly indicating the town as being inconspicuous. Angua sniffed.

"Odd." She muttered, catching Vimes' attention. "Something smells _odd_ around here. There's plenty of humans and animals around, they're easy to identify, and there's some other recognisable smells and a hint of dwarf, but there's this set of smells..." She sniffed a few times, "It's like human but it isn't human; not like anything I've smelled before."

"Well," He stated, "Keep your nose peeled. Let me know if anything smells... unpleasant."

"Like Cpl. Nobbs, sir?" She asked.

"Like your late brother, sarge." She nodded slowly in understanding.

Time passed as they habitually patrolled the streets; a couple of inquiries carefully phrased let them know that the town was called Bree, to which Angua remarked that it was like a strong smelly cheese, and that it was the centre of a city-state in a land that was once called the kingdom of Arnor. Angua also identified the beings that smelled particularly unusual, which Vimes thought of as men who didn't grow up but did grow old in regards to the fact that none of them were taller than kids but had the build of adults. As the Sun sank they found an inn where they might find room and board.

"Good evening, sir." The barkeeper greeted them. "Good evening, ma'm. How can I be of service?" Vimes produced three Ankh-Morpork dollars.

"We'd like a room each," He said, "And a bite to eat." The barkeeper looked at his coins.

"I'm sorry, sir," He answered, "But we only accept Old Arnor shillings, Gondorian sovereigns and local groats." Vimes was non-plussed.

"Well," He remarked, "Where are we supposed to go to exchange our money?"

"We do barter here," Came the answer, "But these coins seem to have little material value."

"What sort of barter?" Vimes inquired.

"Well, if your lady-friend is willing, the armour she's got on would be more than enough."

"What kind of joint do you run here?" Angua growled. "I'm not taking my armour off; it's standard watch issue and my breastplate is most certainly staying where it is."

"Listen mate," Vimes continued to haggle, "There might be less gold in these coins than in a pint of seawater but they've got plenty of useful metals in them, like copper."

"I'm sorry, sir," The barkeep persisted, "But it would take enough copper for a bathtub."

"Mr Butterbur," Came a voice from the doorway, "What appears to be the trouble?" Vimes and Angua followed Butterbur's gaze to see a dishevelled, bearded man standing in the doorway with two teenage boys in front of him, and they were most certainly human boys.

"That's my business, Strider." He answered, clearly not best pleased with this man's intervention. Angua regarded the boys, there was a distinct scent coming off them, a strong greenish yellow-purple type of scent. They were clearly wizards.


	5. Beer, Board and Banter

Strider walked up to the bar next to Angua and looked across at Vimes.

"Would you require some assistance, good sir?" He asked.

"What assistance can you offer?" Vimes returned.

"Depends on what assistance you require." Vimes paused for a moment, Angua regarded Strider with curiosity. He kinda reminded her of Carrot; his scent was of someone who'd seen many things and took time to learn much and he oozed with charisma.

"I think we can give him some trust." She whispered to Vimes. Completely trustworthy was not something an Ankh-Morpork citizen would typically consider a newcomer to be.

"Well, mate," Vimes conceded, "We're new here. We are sorta lost in an unfamiliar setting and it seems that Ankh-Morpork dollars don't carry the value they do in the Sto Plains." Strider regarded them for a moment. Vimes' words were certainly deliberately avoiding the most direct answer, which suggested a connection of some kind with Harry and Ron.

"It seems you are not the only ones with unusual coins." He remarked. "These young men possess coins that are more likely to have material value than the coinage we know." Getting the idea Harry and Ron stepped forward to offer their coins to see if Barliman would accept them. Harry offered one galleon to start with.

"Is that solid gold?" He asked, not even attempting to touch it.

"21-karat." Harry answered.

"Well, in that case..."

"We shall make a deal." Strider interrupted. "I shall pay for my own room and board in the coins of Bree and messieurs Potter and..."

"Weasley." Ron informed him.

"Weasley will pay for their own and these persons' in the material value of their coins." Catching a slight glint in his eye, Barliman concurred.

"In that case," Barliman calculated, "You will provide the usual rate. Yes?" Strider nodded and produced several bronze coins in payment for his room and something to eat. "And how many rooms will you sirs, and madam, be requiring?"

"Ron and I will share, Mr Butterbur." Harry confirmed.

"I'd reckon we'll have to have a room each." Vimes identified.

"Well then," Barliman deduced, "That'll be two of those coins for the rooms, one for supper and one for breakfast." Harry have him the four galleons and a sickle.

"For your trouble." He commented. Ron looked at Angua suspiciously as she flinched slightly at the sight of the sickle coin.

"You young sirs should be careful," Barliman whispered, "Such quantities of gold require due protection, and I wouldn't put it past a ranger to pilfer a few..." Strider moved so fast that the four misfits had to blink; he gripped Barliman's shirt by, well it would be the collar if it had one.

"I'd be more careful how I choose my words, if I were you." He whispered. "Especially while I'm around." He released his grip.

"But even so," Barliman continued as he held the galleons in one hand and the sickle in the other, "These are *gold* and this is..."

"Solid silver." Angua finished in the low dull tone of someone who knew exactly what they were talking about. Not saying another word Barliman went to find Nob to organise four rooms.

"Once you're all settled in," Strider stated, "I welcome you to join me for the evening meal."

"Thanks, Strider." Harry replied. "Our meeting got off to a shaky start but you seem rather hospitable now."

"Believe me," He returned, "My hospitality can vary quite greatly. All is calm for now but, if we're all pulled into a situation, expect a rough ride."

"This seems a very down-to-disc joint." Vimes added his tuppence worth. "I hope the food's as basic too."

"I'm not so sure," Angua informed them, "But I'll make it if I can."

Their rooms were conveniently close to each other. Harry and Ron's room was next to Strider's over-looking the street while Vimes and Angua were in the rooms opposite with a view full of hill, which was fortunate for Angua as she felt dreadfully out-of-touch where the Moon was concerned. Indeed as Nob helped her sort some things out she tactfully asked him about the Moon.

"Why it's in the first half." He answered as he finished and went about his duties. Angua realised he meant the first quarter, which gave her a week to arrange things.

When they went to supper they shared a table next to a window that looked out into the yard where men and hobbits wandered and horses could be seen now and again. Rain was beginning to fall. Strider informed them of the name 'hobbit' and explained that most of their race lived in a land within a day's walk of Bree.

"I gather that you are not from Middle-Earth." He guessed afterwards, looking at Vimes and Angua since Harry had already confirmed this about Ron and himself.

"So that's what this world is called." Vimes identified. "Our presence here, Mr Strider, is not of our choice."

"As is the case with us." Harry butted in.

"See, there was an accident with the wizards and a discharge of magic." Strider didn't totally understand but there was one way to find out. He decided to leave it for now and ask a bit more about themselves.

"Are you guards?"

"We're watchmen." Vimes replied. "I would rather not be thought of as a guard; they're just decorative soldiers who do nothing but stand around all day making things difficult for anyone wanting to see the Patrician." Strider looked bewildered.

"Patrician?"

"The ruler of our home city." Vimes explained. "He's a cold calculating man but he knows the workings of Ankh-Morpork and those of the people; sometimes you wonder if it's worth bothering giving him a report as he tends to know it before you've even started. Still, at least he's only a dictator and not a king."

"It sounds to me," Strider remarked, "That it is just for him not to sit on the throne."

"I wouldn't like seeing _anyone_ on a throne." Vimes spat. Strider read this well; he had a lot to work on with Vimes. He changed the subject again.

"Would anyone like a drink?" Vimes gave him a bitter glance.

"No booze. I haven't touched any since I got married." He lit a cigar. Harry wasn't happy about this but said nothing, seeing as how smoky the Prancing Pony was anyway.

"Do they have tea?" He asked. Strider smiled.

"Certainly. Barliman makes a good brew as is the taste of his hobbit customers."

"Tea sounds good." Vimes remarked.

"I'll have a fruit juice." Angua told him.

"What sort of fruit?"

"Well," She queried, "What've they got?" Strider listed such temperate fruits as apple, blackberry, blackcurrant, redcurrant and grape. "I'll have a grape juice, then."

"And what does Mr Weasley request?" Ron decided to be ambitious.

"I'll have a half of bitter." Harry looked at him in surprise and distaste.

"Ron," He remarked, "We're only fourteen."

"Will you provide the value for those four drinks?" Strider requested of Harry, who promptly gave him three sickles.

"Well," Vimes stated once Strider had gone to the bar, "It seems we're all in the same boat. Four persons lost in a strange world, quite by accident."

"I concur." Harry responded. "We'll have to work together to live in this world and to find our ways back home."

"I word of advice." Angua announced. "I'd spend those _silver_ coins as soon as possible, or exchange them for native currency. I doubt we'll get much for our dollars and pennies, but maybe our friend over there will help." While they talked Strider paid for the drinks.

"Tea for two," He told Barliman, "two halves and a grape juice." He gave him a groat and the three sickles.

"Just one of those special coins will do." He commented, taking only the one but leaving the groat. "It's more than enough."

"Keep the change." Strider remarked, too concerned with his own affairs to bother about exact prices. Upon returning with the beer and grape juice he gave Harry the sickles back.

"You can have one for your trouble." Harry offered, partly due to Angua's warning but also out of his own generosity.

"You must be careful, Harry." He mentioned. "At this rate you'll have no money left."

"Speaking of money, Mr Strider..." Vimes spoke up.

"Just Strider, Mr Vimes."

"Where, how and what with can we exchange our money?"

"I think," He answered, "We'll have to wait and see what fate has in store before I can determine how you can acquire our own coinage." The rain was pelting down now. The tea didn't take long to arrive in the form of a set with one pot and a milk jug for Vimes and Harry to share.

As Strider finished his half his gaze wandered to the entrance where Barliman was leaning over the counter to talk with four hobbits clad in the travelling garb of The Shire.


	6. Five Becomes Nine

"Forgive me while I take my leave." Strider apologised to the four misplaced souls. "I have pressing business to attend to." Harry and Ron took this the wrong way.

"No problem, Mr Strider." Harry responded. "We must all answer the call at some point in the day." Strider realised what Harry was referring to.

"It's not that form of business." With that he walked off.

"Hold on, Strider..." Vimes started but, to his surprise, their host had melted away into the crowd much faster than he thought was possible. He turned to Harry and Ron. "So, I take it you're wizards." They weren't too comfortable about admitting it in front of a muggle but Angua saved them the trouble.

"They are wizards, sir." She confirmed. "I can smell it on you." She said it in such a way that Harry and Ron were convinced that it was the robes and such that gave it away.

"Yes, we are." Harry gave in. "It's just not usually done to admit it to a muggle."

"I beg your pardon!" Vimes snapped.

"Hold on," Ron reacted, "Muggle is just a term for someone who doesn't use magic."

"You need not worry about letting us know." Angua reassured them. "In our city wizards are blindingly obvious, walking about with these overly colourful robes and pointy hats, with their waists stuck out so far you'd think they had entire bulls for their lunch."

"Sometimes they do." Vimes added. They finished their drinks and then asked for a refill. This time Angua opted for a pint, Harry another tea, Ron a half of mild and Vimes an apple juice. Harry gave Barliman a sickle and four knuts for the value.

"Careful, Ron." Harry commented when they made their orders. "You're not used to alcohol, let alone muggle beers."

Another couple of rounds later, with Harry having spent another three sickles and six knuts, they suddenly heard a shout of 'He's vanished!'. They were totally bewildered as to what's going on; earlier there was a loud clear singing of some jolly tune unknown to them accompanied by a cacophony of cheers and encores. Now the whole mood in the room seemed to have shifted into a sense of unease.

"Look!" Ron spoke in a tone that suggested the intent to shout but stifled by a sense of needing to only let the three immediately around him here. "There's Strider." Indeed they observed his tall slender figure performing his namesake towards where everyone was staring. He lifted a hobbit up by the arm and dragged him off.

"Sergeant." Vimes muttered. Angua shook her head.

"There's no way of using these door handles in that way," She responded in a voice somewhere between a whisper and a mutter, "And I daren't leave my armour lying around where anybody could just take it."

"Hmm," Vimes mused as he grudgingly accepted this, "Maybe if I kept an eye on it."

"Hey!" Angua almost yelled this. "Remember, we have company." That wasn't all she was getting at and Vimes knew it.

"You're right." He gave in. "Looks like we're gonna have to do it the old-fashioned way." He got up and she followed.

"Hold on." Harry interrupted. "We want to know, too."

"Now listen, lad," Vimes tried to dissuade them, "This has a very good chance of resulting in something dangerous. Believe me, I know."

"Hah!" Ron declared. "We laugh at the face of danger." But he clearly sounded like he didn't mean it.

"We've seen many dangers." Harry explained. "And, as wizards, we could be of use." Vimes conceded, but wasn't comfortable as he always associated wizardry with tearing the fabric of reality. After all, that is why he was in Bree in the first place.

When they reached the door to Strider's room they just caught him finishing a sentence. All they heard was.

"...frightened?" After which, an unknown and clearly nervous voice answered.

"Yes."

"Not nearly frightened enough." Strider retorted to his 'guest'. "I know what hunts you." There was a pause; Angua thought she heard a hand gripping something, like the hilt of a sword. "Enter, reckless ones." They looked at one another in bewilderment before Harry uneasily opened the door. They found Strider and a hobbit standing opposite each other, but Strider was looking right at them with his hand on the hilt of his sword. "Your curiosity has led you into a deep, dark quest. I cannot trust any of you to remain in Bree with all you have discovered."

"Do not think of us as novices where danger is concerned." Harry replied. "I survived an attempt on my live when I was just a baby and several others in the past few years."

"Where we come from," Vimes remarked while indicating Angua and himself, "Hardly a day goes by without the possibility of being killed. I am a natural born survivor."

"And I can be quite a bitch to kill." Angua added. Strider looked from one to the other, only Ron looked uneasy.

"What about you, young Ron?" He asked.

"I may not be as hardy as Harry," He answered, "But I'll stand by him as his friend and as brothers of the dormitory."

"You are clearly brave folk," Strider identified, "But you're also arrogant in your attitudes."

"After what I've had to contend with," Harry remarked, "What could be more difficult?"

"You judge yourselves against adversaries that are familiar to you." Strider replied. "Opponents like assassins or muggers; they're nothing compared to what's coming."

"We shall face whatever danger comes, ready to fight." Vimes announced.

"Don't say you weren't forewarned." Strider added as he accepted their 'can-do' attitude. Just then three more hobbits burst in, confronting Strider for dragging off their mate. "Bravery can be found in many folk where it might not be expected." He turned to the hobbit he was talking to earlier. "But you can dither here no longer, Frodo. They are coming." Next he instructed the four misplaced adventurers to move their gear into the room allocated to Harry and Ron while the hobbits were told to move their bedding into Strider's room. In response to Angua's concern about undressing he mentioned sleeping without the removal of any item that would be considered clothing.

Barliman turned up soon after with a letter for a 'Mr Underhill'; Vimes watched suspiciously as the hobbit who was referred to as Frodo accepted the letter and, when the bartender had gone, read it. Once he finished Strider remarked.

"Do you still look upon me with doubt? Even if you do you have no choice if you wish to make it to Rivendell." Frodo looked at him in wonder, which was only half a surprise to the four who saw this as a strange world. Another hobbit muttered something in Frodo's ear.

"I think," He answered, "That a servant of the enemy would seem fairer and feel fouler." Strider seemed to smirk.

"Whereas," He commented, "I look foul and feel fair."

"As you say, Strider," Frodo recapped, "We have no choice but to trust in you. You are our best chance in these lands."

"It looks that way for us all." Harry commented with a hint of trepidation. Angua sniffed.

"There's something coming." She said. "Something very undesirable. Like a ghoul but much more malicious."

"Quick!" Strider declared. "Let us organise our best chance for surviving the night."


	7. Blending In

None of the misplaced persons could settle down that night. Everyone of them had this 'out-of-place' sensation you get when sleeping in a new environment. Vimes couldn't settle due to his old 'night watch' habits reawakening in these simple living quarters; Angua didn't sleep, she was too focused on the olfactory cocktail floating through the air. Harry and Ron couldn't sleep for a whole other reason, one that was sitting on the edge of Angua's feelings and would later enter Vimes' senses too, the deep sense of fear and foreboding.

Angua sniffed periodically, trying to identify each scent that slinked through the room like a heavy oil. Vimes was the familiar tone of tobacco, leather, justice and authority but the two boys were something she couldn't get her head round; they didn't just smell of magic they _reeked_ of it and one of them had something of a sugary tone that reminded her of barley sugar. Other scents included that of Barliman Butterbur, the landlord, who stank of beer, tobacco and something that reminded her of Sgt. Colon. Nob, the inn's servant, had a scent that shared the tones of tobacco and beer but there was this tone, which she had noticed amongst all the beings called 'hobbits'. Also there were hints from the neighbouring room: Strider had a smell that combined an earthy tone, reminiscent of his outdoors-y dress and ragged look, with something that brought her mind back to Carrot, a striking element in his scent that had an almost regal feel to it. Each of the hobbits sharing the room with Strider had the familiar 'hobbit-y' smell coupled with a sense of foreign-ness mixed with the smells of travelling on foot and a brooding tone; this brooding-type smell she recalled was strongest with Frodo, it seemed separate from him but at the same time a part of him. There was something there that was apart from the others, something deliberately _evil_ but, which called to her in an inviting way she only ever felt before with the smell of blood, but this was different.

There was a faint sound of horses. Another sniff told Angua three things: There were new horses in the town but they were not right, they smelled of perpetual fear like in a permanent state of transfixion; also there was a smell that she noticed before, but now it was much stronger, the smell of something like a ghoul... but much more evil. Vimes started.

"Something's not right." He muttered. "I've got forebodings."

"Know what you mean." Harry responded. "There's a sense of fear and dread hanging around; almost like..." His eyebrows shot up and he drew his wand.

"Harry," Ron inquired in that manner that suggested he feared the worst, "You don't think...?"

"Yes, Ron."

A strange sensation crept through the room, like it was getting darker when it wasn't. A sound like iron boots sneaking forward came from the corridor outside. The feeling of dread became so great that Ron curled up, trying to hide from the night, Angua went on her hands and knees and arched her back and Vimes backed up against the wall while reaching for his sword. Harry stood firm, pointing his wand directly against the door; Angua's response to the foreboding puzzled him deeply because, where he came from, canine behaviour in werewolves only occurred in the light of the full moon so he was still oblivious to her true nature. The dread subsided slightly and Ron poked his head up as Vimes and Angua relaxed.

"Harry," Ron remarked, "Don't _they_ make water and glass ice over?"

"That's usually one of the first signs." Harry whispered back.

"Then, why's the window clear?" Harry looked and barely had a couple of seconds to think about this when a sudden sound was heard from a room slightly further down and on the other side of the corridor. This made all four of them start. "What's that?" Ron spoke in that form of a whisper, which would've been a shout if you weren't scared to do so. This was one of those moments where Vimes' streetwise attitude came into its own.

"Someone's hacking at some beds." He muttered.

"It's that very same room Strider wanted those hobbits to move out of." Angua remarked.

"Which either means that those committing blatant vandalism," Vimes figured, "Are assassins who've been misguided, ordinary vandals who're not the kind to aim high or our friend Strider was on to them and they are after those hobbits."

"Bloody 'ell." Ron commented. "What have we got ourselves into?"

"If Strider wants us to accompany him," Vimes responded, "We'll accompany him."

"But these things might try to kill us." Ron pointed out.

"Exactly!" Vimes answered. "Nothing makes you feel more alive than some sod attempting to kill yer." Harry was just about to make a remark when this terrible scream rang through the corridors. "Banshees!"

"No, sir." Angua informed him. "It's something worse. Something _deliberately_ evil, but with a fundamental tone like that of a ghoul."

"You mean," Ron guessed, "Like a poltergeist?"

"No. Worse than that." The dread feeling rolled past the door to their room and out of the inn and the sounds of galloping horses drifted away into the night.

"Don't sleep too heavily." Vimes advised. "You might not never wake up."

They woke up next morning feeling refreshed, although the events of the previous night still lingered in their minds. Harry and Ron knew that this was no dream when they looked about them, but the only way Vimes and Angua could be reminded was by looking out the window; the new day made Bree look far too clean to be mistaken for any part of Ankh-Morpork. There was a knock at the door. Vimes, ever the suspicious bastard (he'd be the first to admit it), sidled up behind the door with his sword drawn and carefully unbolted it. Strider came in, bringing his sword against Vimes' in a split second.

"It's just me, Mr Vimes." He commented.

"Oh, sorry Strider." Vimes replied half-heartedly as they sheathed their swords. "A lifetime on the streets of Ankh-Morpork does that to a man." Strider raised an eyebrow while maintaining an expression that was somewhere between a smirk and a look of wisdom.

"Masters Potter and Weasley," He addressed, "How many coins do you possess?" If he had asked that when they first met they'd have taken him to be a mugger, but now they were sure of his good intentions.

"I have eight galleons," Harry answered, "Ten sickles and fourteen knuts."

"To help those present," Ron butted in, "A galleon is one of the gold coins, a sickle is silver and a knut is bronze. I myself have four sickles and ten knuts." Strider nodded in acknowledgement and said.

"I've just spoken to Barliman. He's had your coins checked and it seems that you spoke true, Harry, when you said the 'galleons' were solid 21-karat gold and the 'sickles' are solid silver." Harry and Ron nodded firmly while Vimes stared at them, thinking about that they carried real gold on them, and Angua frowned between Strider and the wizard boys since she knew the sickles were solid silver all along. "Our hobbit-friends are already at breakfast, but all of us can join them for second breakfast." The four misplaced persons looked at one another in confusion. "For now I request that you come with me to find some clothing that shall aid in your need to blend in."

"I suppose our robes do make us stick out in this world." Harry responded.

"Might I ask why our uniforms do not work in this land?" Vimes inquired.

"Your armour may be sufficient to blend in with the people," Strider answered, "But where we shall have to tread you will be beacons in the wilderness."

"So," Vimes figured, "You want us to go traipsing across country?" Strider tapped the hilt of his sword and answered.

"Your inquisitive tendencies mean that I am compelled to request your presence on our journey."

"_Our_ journey?" Vimes pushed.

"You, myself and the hobbits."

"How long will we be in the wild?" Angua asked with a slightly worried tone.

"If all goes well," Strider answered, "We shall be trekking for fourteen days or so."

"And the full moon is only a week away." She muttered. Her muttering did not go unnoticed by Strider but he heard not what it was she said.

"It is regrettable that a lady should travel rough in the wilderness," He commented, "But I fear that we cannot risk leaving anyone who's heard so much. Madam, will you endure the hardships that are set before us."

"Believe me, Mr Strider," She answered, "I can readily take care of myself and have travelled in the wild many times. While Commander Vimes is my senior and is well-versed in the ways of the city I know much about surviving in the wild."

"She is no mere woman." Vimes almost spat this. "She is a watchman! She can fight as good as any of us and, in some areas, better."

"Your resolves seem strong," Strider remarked, "But only the reality of the journey shall tell just how resolute you truly are. Come, let us find you clothing suited for discretion out in the wilds."

While the Bree-landers gave the four of them some funny looks the material wealth promised by the coins Harry and Ron paid with helped to sway their dubious feelings. All of them were fitted with garments for inconspicuous travel in the wilderness in exchange for five sickles along with some supplies bought for Ron's four sickles and they secured a half-starved pony from a grasping cad for two galleons; it was going to be three but one specific kind of look from Angua and he settled for two. Now Ron only carried ten knuts and Harry bore six galleons, five sickles and fourteen knuts. When they returned to the Prancing Pony the hobbits greeted them with gusto.

"Perfect timing." Pippin remarked cheerfully once Strider did the introductions and made it clear that all nine of them were to make for Rivendell by way of hidden paths in the wilds of Eriador. "We were just gonna look in to getting second-breakfast."

"Since we've had no breakfast," Harry responded, "I suppose we could join you."

"Let it be quick." Strider told them. "We must make haste if we are to leave the roads before persons none too friendly catch up with us."

It was indeed quick as they shared buttered toast and halves of beer, except for Vimes, Angua and Harry who abstained from the ale and drank milk in its place. The hobbits also took some apples and cheese to take-away, which was something of a surprise to Harry as he thought they had enough supplies while the other three took this in their stride thinking that they needed as many supplies as possible. Strider put them in the picture regarding the voracious appetites of hobbits.

Once they were all packed and just about to set off from the coach house next to the inn Harry asked what was on the minds of the misplaced four.

"Strider?" Their hard, well-travelled guide turned. "Last night... there was... a strange feeling creeping through the room. It was like... something was hunting... We know it wasn't just a feeling in ourselves. There was something in the inn but... Well, what was it?" Strider didn't attempt to settle their unease, nor did he try to change the subject.

"They were once men," He answered, "Great kings of men."

"Oh." Vimes remarked. "Kings. That explains a lot." Strider shot him a dirty look.

"They built and led great kingdoms and brought peace and prosperity. Then Sauron the Deceiver gave to them nine rings of power; blinded by their greed they took them without question. Their minds succumbed to the desire, one by one they fell into darkness."

"Kings often do." Vimes added. "Usually when they've gone too far and civil revolt occurs, then they're bound to get pushed off a..."

"Evil darkness." Strider almost snapped. "Now they are slaves to his will, eternally in Sauron's servitude. They are the Nazgûl, the Ringwraiths; neither living nor dead. They will pursue us wherever they can, never stopping until they achieve their task or until they can be desaddled and faded out of their forms."

"What do they want with us?" Ron asked.

"Not _us_, Mr Weasley." Strider glanced towards one particular individual.

"Maybe I should go by myself." Frodo commented. "Then they shall not bother any of you."

"It is better that you are protected from them, Frodo. One hobbit cannot defend himself against all nine of the wraiths."

"Should I keep my mouth shut," Vimes asked," Or might I ask why?"

"Not here." Strider answered. "Wait until we first make camp, then we won't be overheard." With that settled they set off along the Great East Road out of Bree. Strider leading with the baggage pony at his side while he gripped the harness, behind him Vimes and Angua came followed by Harry and Ron, Frodo and Sam, with Merry and Pippin bringing up the rear. All of them knew, one way or another, that the real adventure was only just beginning.


End file.
